A Reflection
by Tsunami'sWriting
Summary: Tyler reflects on why he took those pictures-And realizes something important. (( 13 Reasons Why- Because there isn't a tag for it here. ))


'Thing is, even though Tyler stopped coming around, I never stopped feeling afraid. So, what could I do after that? First the school, then my house, even my own bedroom. Nowhere was safe. You took all that away.'

The boy slammed his Walkman down, shining ivories biting at his bottom lip. A thin hand ran its way through his curly hair. "God dammit…" He hissed softly. He couldn't help himself; he had to stop. He just had to…

Tyler was not a guy that liked stopping something before it was complete. He liked doing things all in one go—But…That little sentiment was thrown out the window at this moment. He had finally gotten to his tape; the one that explained how he aided Hannah in her suicide. It made him feel so awful and…Just the thought of that caused hot tears to well into his eyes. "Nghn…" He stood up on shaky legs, chair squeaking gently against the hardwood floor as it moved away from his body.

Shuffling down the hall, he arrived at the fridge and opened it up, letting the cool air hit his now warm face. "Dammit, dammit, dammit…" He muttered to himself, looking through the drinks, but not searching for anything in particular. Giving a loud, resigned sigh, Tyler snatched a bottle of water and went back into his room, gently closing the door. The last thing he wanted to do was draw the attention of his parents to him.

He opened the bottle and drank just a tad of the water, feeling the iciness rolling down his throat and into his ( churning ) stomach. "It didn't have to be…Like this…" He kept right on, just talking to himself. "I didn't…Mean to do this." Lowering his trembling frame onto the bed, he let his right arm drape over his face, covering his eyes. "This wasn't supposed…To happen…I just wanted to—I just wanted…"

Wait…What DID he want?

The cogs in Tyler's brain began rolling at full speed. "What…Did I want?" He asked himself, slowly sitting up and letting his hands hang loosely at his sides. "I need to figure that out." The boy stated resolutely, standing up to his full height.

"But…How…?" Slowly sitting back down, the bed frame creaked ever so slightly. With furrowed brows, Tyler closed his eyes, grumbling incoherent babblings to no one but himself. "Well…What did I hope to accomplish with those pictures…?" This was going to be so much harder than he thought…

"It was just…Instinct, I guess?" He was always horrible at talking to girls and, well, Hannah was no different. A little subtle hint dropping wouldn't harm her, he supposed, and so that's what he believed he was doing. Just dropping subtle hints that he liked her—A lot. "I mean, it started off with me just photographing everyday school activities." He was once again standing up, pacing around the room back and forth.

Sighing, he shook his head. "But…The naturalness. The beauty…It overwhelmed me. She never put on that damned mask. The one everyone wears…" His stomach stopped churning and, instead, started to bubble. It frothed and grew warmer with every passing second. "Oh, God…How I longed to…To just stare at that wonderful face." The heat began to burn. "Such natural…Beauty…Such wonderful smiles and…Great eyes…Wondrous features—No mask. No makeup."

Tyler roughly shook his head back and forth and his lower abdomen began to cool off. "But I guess…I went about it the wrong way…Everyday activities turned into…Borderline stalking—And then that turned into…Actual stalking." He felt hot embarrassment rising into his cheeks. He was no stalker—Or so he felt that way.

"And that night when she began…Making out with her—I just…I got so mad! I was…I was…I think I was going to blackmail her…I was going to use that as my encouragement to ask her on a date—And if she refused, well, I was going to show everyone the pictures!" Tyler clenched his fists tightly as if he had finally figured out what he had planned—But that confidence quickly faded. "That doesn't sound like me, though…" He murmured, sitting down. "I would never—Could never do that to her. I mean, I wouldn't have the guts to just talk to her normally, what makes me think I could do anything like…That!"

He took in one, large breath and sat back down on the bed. "I'll never know what my own true intentions were, but…I guess…Well, no, I know for a fact that this wasn't…How I wanted things to turn out. This isn't what I thought would happen, to be honest—I mean, who could? Maybe a professional counselor, yeah, but…Not me."

"Now, all I'll be known as is…The boy that stalked Hannah. The one that helped Hannah…Helped…He-helped…" He began to tremble once more, fingers flexing against his kneecaps. "Helped—Hannah kill…Her-herself." Tyler couldn't swallow for the knot in his throat prevented him from even contracting the muscles in his neck. "Fucking—Ch-Christ…" He sniffled and wiped at his nose.

"I loved he-her with—Every fiber in m-my body and I fucking—Ki-killed her. She's…De-dead because of me…" Tears began streaming down his cheeks, dripping on his shirt and bed spread. His nose started running and he reached over to his dresser, grabbing some tissues. "I didn't wa-want this t-to happen, dammit." Tyler blew into the tissue loudly, using another one to wipe at his eyes—Though that did little to help. They were still overflowing with tears.

As he sat in the silent room filled with his soft crying, the boy started to grind his teeth quite loudly, trying hard not to exclaim out in pain—His heart was hurting. It was as if he had stabbed himself in the chest. The bloody dagger had been there since Hannah died and it was him who had done it—No one else. He was the one that sheathed the blade in his body.

"I wa-want Hannah—T-to come back. I-I need her t-to come—Back, I need…" His sentences trailed off as he buried his head into one of his pillows, sobbing loudly into the object.

There was nothing that could be done. Not now and not ever. Tyler made his mistake and he was paying the price that was due. He lost someone he truly loved all because he had to go and mess it up like that—He had to fuck it all up. Every bit of it was his fault.

Or so he felt.


End file.
